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I’m participating in another fiction blog hop! This is more of a snippet than a complete story, but I was persuaded to put it up anyway. Make sure to check out the other linked stories below.

House Bound

Jack Callahan rode up to Hopeswell Keep on a late summer day. Warm light gilded the tiled roof and grey stone of the manor, a hodge-podge of architectural styles that was surprisingly charming. The long-abandoned, ivy-covered keep that gave the place its name peeked up from behind the great house.

The edifice would be a bear to heat in the winter.

And it was all his.

Jack rode his bay to the stables, off to one side. No one was around, but there was fresh straw in the stalls, water in the trough, and hay in the rick.

Impressive. Even her diminished power reached to the outbuildings.

After seeing to True, Jack slung the saddle bags over his shoulder and headed up the paved path to a side door.

It stuck, just like he’d been told. He wrestled it open and entered a narrow corridor. He turned left into spacious kitchen, scrupulously clean, utterly silent, and empty of life. The weak sunlight trickling in could not banish the chill or the shadows in the corners.

Jack tossed the saddle bags onto a bench, pulled a spindly chair up to a scarred wooden slab of a table, and sat down.

He didn’t have long to wait.

Between one glance up at the ceiling and another across the table, she was there.

Red haired. Green eyed. Narrow face and pointed chin. Bare feet contrasting with a blue brocade gown that had been in fashion last century.

“Who,” she said, annoyance in every stiff line of her, “are you?”

Jack rose and bowed. “My apologies for my sudden arrival. Since there is no gentler way to put this: I am Jack Callahan, and I’m the new owner of Hopeswell Keep.”

She jerked back, as if struck. “What?”

“I’m afraid,” he said, “the choice was between exorcism or a sale.”

“I am a Guardian, not a ghost!” the woman snapped.

“I believe you. But Lord Staveley was most determined to unload himself of this place.”

“Of course he was! That lily-livered maggot! Mincing fop and unmannerly fool, too. How his ancestors would spin in their graves if they knew their mutton-headed descendant had sold his birthright!” The woman heaped scorn on the current Lord Staveley with more choice words. Jack, sharing her sentiments, listened with great appreciation.

“And you?” she finished, rounding on him. “What is your part in all this foolishness?

“Only that I paid five hundred thousand pounds for this manor of yours. It was the only way I could set you free.”

Her stare was icy. “Explain yourself, sir.”

“Gladly, m’lady—”

“Sorka will do,” she interrupted.

“Sorka, then.” She had given him her name. A reassuring step. “Aside from Idlewood Castle and Buckworth Abbey, this is the only house in existence to boast a Guardian. Did you know?”

She snorted. “Of course. It’s unfashionable. Something about bleeding a mage out on the foundations and pumping their veins full of ichor tends to put people off their dinners. These new generations don’t have the stomach for it, like their forebears did.

“Most of the other great houses and their Guardians are gone—destroyed in the Shadow Wars. Except for you. You’ve been alive a long time, Lady Sorka.”

“But you are here to offer me freedom, aren’t you?” She arched an eyebrow. “How?”

Jack pulled out the sale contract and unfolded it on the table between them. He placed a finger on Lord Staveley’s signature and his own. “These will allow me to break the spell that binds you here. Will you permit it?”

“At what price?” She wore the face of a young woman, but those eyes had lived a long time.

His insides fluttered, but his face was calm. “Help me find the lost Island of Avenir.”

Sorka’s face was a mask. “Impossible.”

He smiled at her. “Not for a priestess.”

She let her breath out in a hiss. “So you know that, too? You’ve planned this well, haven’t you, Jack Callahan?”

He winced, thinking she might’ve recognized him. No. She suspected something, but she didn’t know for sure. “Please. You have my word that I’ll not use the knowledge or power of Avenir for evil. I’ll even take the Oath, and put myself under your authority. But I need to find it.”

On August 26th, I’ll be participating in a speculative fiction blog hop with a number of other writers.

What’s that, you ask? Good question! On that day, all the participants will post a short story or flashfic on their blogs, and link to all the rest. You, gentle reader, will have the opportunity to go from blog to blog, feasting on the literary delights that await. Rest assured, there won’t be any explicit content.

My offering will be set in Highwind, the same city that forms the backdrop for Mourning Cloak and Wither.

So, my sadly-neglected blogging career (ha!) on this site needs a reboot.

How I’m going to approach the reboot is the big question. The reality is that my time is limited, and my previous approach was not getting many results. I lacked focus, and often felt that I was all over the place in my blogging. And honestly, it had turned into a big chore, so it was easy to let it fall off my plate.

I’d like to avoid that this time around. I want blogging to be a joyful experience. I don’t want to spend hours agonizing over topic and word choice and wondering, “Does this help my brand?”

And I definitely want to reach readers. For all of my blogging history, the majority of my audience has been other writers. Many of those are ALSO readers, don’t get me wrong. But there are already so many great blogs out there that target writers. I love to talk writing, but not all the time.

The one thing I AM going to do is share more of my fiction, especially in the flashfic format. A while ago, I challenged myself to write flashfic inspired by the planets of our solar system–just because. I have three from that challenge I like and want to share, so keep an eye on this space for them.

To the friends, fellow-writers, and readers who were still there when I emerged from my cocoon (“She’s aliiiiiiiiive!”): What kinds of things do you like me to talk about? What types of posts have you enjoyed in the past?

This has just been one of those weeks. I lost two writing days and eked out a miserable few hundred words on a third day.

But School Happened (yes, even when the public school kids got two days off, which did not go unnoticed by mine). We read Shakespeare retellings, made a “blubber” glove for science, plowed on through math.

And also! I’m at two other blogs this week, answering questions about writing, life, and Rainbird:

At Forego Reality, I talk about finding time to write as a homeschooling mom, the inspiration behind the sunway, and my commitment to quality as a self-publisher.

And today, I’m at Liv Rancourt’s blog, discussing where I picked up my style, how a girl from Pakistan ended up in Northern Virginia, and the YA elements in Rainbird.

And, thirdly, I’m strongly leaning towards joining the slow blogging movement. I’m a fiction writer with limited time. I enjoy blogging, but I cannot put out three or more high-quality posts every week. I have to drop down to one longish post and (maybe) one shorter, quick-to-put-together post like this one per week. I’m still thinking about this, so if you have any opinions about this change, let me know!